An Open Letter to the Mayor and Council of Tenafly NJ
Filed under: Can't Make This Up, Current Affairs, Religion, Shoot Yourself in the Foot
December 27, 2013
Dear Mayor Rustin and Council,
I don’t usually write letters like this. But when I discovered this story from WPIX today, I felt compelled to write. http://pix11.com/2013/12/26/exclusive-nj-mayor-personally-asks-family-to-take-down-offensive-christmas-decorations/
I am a former resident of Tenafly. I lived about five blocks away from this Joyce Road home. I walked by this street every day on the way to or from the Middle and High Schools. My father was the principal of TMS for a number of years, and I am a 1986 graduate of THS.
The Tenafly shown by Mayor Rustin’s actions is not the Tenafly that I remember.
When I lived there, the town was made up of a mix of Christian and Jewish residents, with some other religions represented. For the most part we coexisted peacefully. We went to each others’ Confirmation and Bar/Bat Mitzvah services. We shared each others’ Hanukkah and Christmas toys. While I was there, the high school performed both Brigadoon (loosely based on Christianity) and The Diary of Anne Frank. I remember seeing Christmas decorations and a large menorah at Huyler Park.
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I fail to see what is so offensive about candles in paper bags. They are not overtly religious. They do not directly pertain to any holiday. They are simply pretty. They were clearly not intended to offend, or even to send a religious message.
The “War on Christmas” idea is very much overblown in the media. There is no war on Christmas in this country, where any religious holiday may be freely celebrated without fear of persecution or imprisonment. But your actions fuel those who believe that there is such a war. Your actions increase the divisions between religions in this country.
I urge you to apologize to the Alvator family, and to modify the relevant ordinance to allow for holiday displays. I hope that you will work together to help create tolerance in a town divided.
Mark Smith
A Lock
I grew up in Tenafly, NJ. We had one Middle School and one High School. I attended both from the early to mid-1980’s. Because it was a small town and most people went all the way through the school district, the middle and high school gym programs shared locker room locks. At the start of 6th grade, you paid a $4 deposit and received a lock. At the end of 12th grade, you could turn it in for your $4 back. It had a key slot on the back so that the gym teachers could open them. The picture on the left is similar, but the lock that I had was so old that the knob that you turned was silver metal.
I clearly wasn’t the first person to use this lock. Let’s assume an age of 20 years – probably two people had used it before me for 7 years each. Maybe three people. This lock traveled with me throughout middle and high school. Some summers it came with me to camp on my footlocker. For some reason, I didn’t turn it in after graduation. I know that I used it for storage over break in my dorm at Rutgers, and probably as a bike lock once or twice after graduating from college . It has been sitting in a cabinet here at my house since Carolyn and I moved in, with a piece of paper – now yellowed – with the combination in my handwriting. It probably hasn’t been used for 20 years. And yet, it still works.
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Yesterday, I bequeathed it to a friend. We met in seminary and she’s one of my favorite people. She’s moving far away for her first job after college and seminary. The lock is attached to a moving pod that is following her in a week or so. And so the lock, now in the hands of someone 20 years younger than me who wasn’t born the last time I opened it on my high school gym locker, continues to serve. And I’m glad that a little piece of me goes with her to her new home.
A Sad Story
Last night I was watching an anime (You’re Under Arrest season 3 – the story of a traffic patrol shift in a Tokyo district) episode that featured the story of a high school girl who died while crossing the street against the light, hurrying to tell the guy that she had admired from afar of her interest. One of the traffic police who stars in the series found her diary near the accident scene, and later learned that the boy also liked her.
This brought to mind a story from my own past, which I don’t think I’ve ever told here. My memory of events 26 years ago is fuzzy, so some dates or events may be wrong.
In December of 1984, my youth pastor asked me to consider attending an overnight retreat for youth from the presbytery (at the time I was in Tenafly, so this was Palisades Presbytery). At this retreat the youth were led through a program about leadership development with the purpose of meeting and evaluating each other and then in the morning – choosing the Youth Advisory Delegates to the General Assembly, Synod, and Presbytery Council. One youth was allowed from each church; there were about 15 or 20 of us at the retreat. At the time I was a high school junior, and recently elected to be ordained as a Deacon in late January.
At the retreat I met many wonderful people. One of the earlier activities was taking and evaluating and understanding the Myers-Briggs Temperament Test. This was the first of many times that I took this test, and I ended up being an INFP. Later in the evening, some of us spent time chatting and bonding and discovered that we were all INFP’s – and I’ve since found that INFP’s tend to find each other at events like this, drawn together.
One of these INFP’s was Jessica Berg. Jessica was a year older than me, a senior from Ridgewood, NJ. She was an Elder serving on their session at the time. She and I just clicked – that kind of natural friendship where you feel like you’ve been friends all of your lives. We bonded that evening over laughter and late night discussions with others.
In the morning we had elections for the positions. First we elected a YAD and Alternate to the General Assembly (national) meeting. A girl from another church was chosen as the YAD, and Jessica came in second. I remember her being devastated. She was given the option to step aside from the Alternate position to stand for Synod YAD, but chose to stay as Alternate. The second election was for the Synod (regional) YAD, who ended up being me. In some ways, these months were the start of my journey that has me at Princeton Seminary today.
In January, my youth pastor arranged an overnight retreat for our youth group and the Ridgewood youth group at our church. (I suspect some match-making here, but I could be wrong.) We had a great evening, and I found myself being very interested in Jessica. I had her phone number. It took me a long time to get up the courage to call her and ask her out. For a while it was “I’ll call tomorrow”.
Finally I decided early in the week to call and ask her out on a Wednesday evening. Earlier in the week was out because I was busy with one thing or another (probably Stage Crew, music, or church).
Another method is medicated suppositories that are inserted into the buy levitra online check content urethra. This drug increase the blood flow of the blood vessels to get penetrated into the male reproductive organ & the presence of such enzymes initiate clogging in the penile region which leads to dilation of blood vessels. india cheapest tadalafil viagra soft tablets http://djpaulkom.tv/video-aint-no-party-like-a-dj-paul-kom-party-watch-the-edm-reel/ Some from the sexual enhancement pills are also proven every single child increase semen production. Thee herbal capsules can now pop over to this shop viagra 100 mg be easily purchase online from any Ayurveda store. Wednesday evening rolled around. It was around 5:30pm in the evening (I think). I was in the basement playing with the computer, when my father called me upstairs. My youth pastor was in the kitchen, still dressed up in a suit (he lived at the Associate Pastor’s manse around the corner from our house). He told me that Jessica had died on Tuesday, January 22, 1985. I had read the newspaper that Wednesday, but completely missed the story at the top of the Local section with her picture. Jessica had been driving to choir practice and was killed when her car was struck by a train at at railroad crossing.
I was numb. I don’t think I reacted correctly to this news. According to my memory I was not sad, not in a crying heap. I was just quiet.
On the following Sunday, I was ordained as a Deacon. That evening Jessica’s memorial service was held at her church. At that age, I was not ready to handle death well (indeed, I chose to skip my grandmother’s out-of-state funeral later), and I didn’t attend – choosing to go to my own youth group instead (volleyball with the local Catholic church group). I still regret this decision.
Ultimately I went on to attend the Synod meeting, which continued my heavy involvement in the church. In June, the presbytery meeting was held at my church and I attended in order to see the report of the YAD who went to General Assembly, and to prepare for my attendance at Synod in June. (Ironically, during that meeting I ended up having dinner at the table of the General Assembly Moderator.) Also during the meeting there was a report from the presbytery folks about youth programs. Pictures of the retreat to choose YADs were shown, including some of me and some of Jessica. And one of me and Jessica, with her wearing a silly hat that I brought to the retreat that looked like a bear’s head. I still have that hat.
Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d called sooner. Jessica was pretty clearly on a seminary/ministry trajectory. She planned to attend Rutgers that fall; at the time I did not know that I would start at Rutgers a year later.
About a year later when I was at Rutgers I met another member of the Ridgewood High School class of 1985. She showed me her yearbook, and the page tribute to Jessica. This friend from my floor at Rutgers ultimately introduced me to my wife Carolyn, right about the time that I saw the yearbook.
For a long time, every January 22nd I would remember and say a prayer for Jessica. As the years have gone by I have forgotten a time or two. But I’ve never forgotten her. And to a tiny degree, she is a part of my faith journey that has led me to seminary.
Be at peace, Jessica. You are not forgotten.
Tenafly High School Class of 1986
OK, I admit it. The title is search bait.
You see, I just got the 3rd notice for my 20th high school reunion which will be held in the Spring. Most of me wants to skip it, but part of me is pulling me to consider it.
At this point, I don’t plan to go. I went to the 10th reunion and found that everybody more or less broke in to the same cliques as high school, and my clique wasn’t there (with a few exceptions, Ollie, Jon and others). That reunion was all about jobs and marriages.
I suspect that this reunion will be all about children. We don’t have any. So I believe that I’ll be lost again.
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The one thing that might draw me in is that I’m really curious about what people are like and up to today. I’ve seen a partial list of attendees, and some of the folks that I’m curious about are on the list.
If you’re from the class and reading this, I’d love to hear from you. I’ll be happy to catch you up on my life and I’m really interested in what you’re doing. You might even be able to talk me into going.
And no, I don’t have the beard any more. Haven’t had it since freshman year in college.
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